Chasing
by SusanneKelly
Summary: Because, we spend so much of our life chasing the sun. Yet when the sunset comes, we never come to appreciate it. Chapter 3- 'I say to you, can you see it? A sky lit up by fireflies'
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1. A Meeting

* * *

 _'Do you remember seeing the stars? I do. They look so bright and luminous even from a far distance away_.'

* * *

How many days have you been gone?

I ask myself that question too many times. It all gets too crazy when clock ticks furiously; day passes by without you being able to latch onto it. Just like a cycle of nothingness.

There was no more to be said. No more to be done.

I wasn't there in your dream, I guess. I was a simple outsider.

 _July 18th_

Rain. She sighed when she walked past the familiar old shop. It was closed; it hasn't opened since sometime in the 1980s, yet someone kept it meticulously clean.

She kept walking down the road. Where does it lead to? Nowhere apparently. Flowers drenched by the downpour, slowly bowing its proud head to the dark clouds. True. Nothing was happy at that point. Looking at the long stretch of road in front of her, except for a grim red telephone booth, everything was grey.

Perhaps it is so. This world, she thought, is a greying mess. How can there be happiness if she can't feel any? This is a stupid proposition, she reminded herself, you are not the only person in the world. At the same time, the rain has never stopped.

Turning left, she found herself in her favourite coffee shop, ready to drink herself to sobriety.

Little did she know, he just walked pass right by the window, without so much as peering into the shop.

 _July 19th_

It was the same routine. Just the same set of old repetition that she is sick of.

The world, she thought, would be so much more interesting if it was covered in gold and silver, instead of this runny substance. Everyone would probably be much happier.

'Excuse me ma'am', the coffee shop attendant interrupted her line of thinking, 'can this gentleman here join you? We're short of tables right now.'

'Sure, not a problem.'

She tilted her head towards the window, intending to completely absorb herself into the surroundings. Never mind there was a stranger sharing a table with her. This was her life, and her choice.

How much choice she had was really to be debated. In a town where rain never ends, she felt trapped by the water. It was as if people sinned endlessly, and the sky cried for them in repentance. Yet the reason was never explained. Either way, she kept her life going. Writing, reading, occasionally drawing and maybe some stargazing if her friends can persuaded to do so.

From the corner of her eyes, she can see the green-haired stranger smirking a little at her.

'What', she snapped rather quickly, preferring to be not judged by the general society.

'Nothing.'

'Then look elsewhere. You are disturbing me.'

'May I inquire on what particular matter?'

'That is entirely private. I mind my business and you mind your own.'

He tilted his head the other way.

'Miss, for someone at your age, I thought you would know your manner a lot better than my younger sister?'

'Who are you to judge me, then?'

'I will admit that I have no authority or permission to do so. However, may I point out the fact that as we are sharing a booth in this particular coffee shop, I have no choice but to observe you?'

'You're probably better off observing the road. That would be far more interesting.'

'I think not, miss; roads are full of people walk by each other and never making sense of what is actually happening. Whereas when you sit down with someone, they show you more of life than you would originally expect.'

'Oh really? In that case, I shall keep my silence.'

'Hmmm...Firstly, why do you object to me studying strangers? Secondly, I think your silence illustrates your character just as well as if you were telling me your entire history.'

'You are seriously creeping me out.'

'Which part, my fair lady? I admit to the fault of studying people's character, but I thought you were no different.'

'Well, I do not do it in a way that is definitive. You might think it's amusing to probe into people's history to intrude their living space, but I think it's infinitely nicer, and kinder, to give them a different story, so that they can at least have some kind of redemption.'

'How would you actually understand someone, if all you've known about them are just lies and wistful thinking?'

'Because, in time, people will eventually reveal themselves to you. Because, no-one wants to read a story where everyone is wicked.'

'Who are you, lady?' He smiled a little, 'you seem more optimistic than what your appearance may suggest.'

'I am a writer.'

'And I am a photographer. I am obliged by my own rules to reveal the harsh truth, and nothing but the truth.'

'But the camera can lie. You only capture one snapshot amongst millions of snapshots that amounts to their life.'

'Well, your pen lies just as much.'

And you are awfully rude for a stranger, she thought to herself.

'If you hate writers so much, don't bother reading them then. That way both of us are happy.' She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. 'If you will excuse me, I really must get going now.'

'Miss, may I inquire what your name is?'

She laughed. She smiled. But she would never betrays her name.

'No.'

'Well, in any case, my name is Ukyo.'

'Do not expect me to give you my name.'

'I am not.'

'Good. And good bye.'

Just beyond the last lamp post on the street, she could see a faintish sunset. _If I create lies,_ she thought to herself, _at least I can see the sunset._

* * *

 _AN: As much as the author would like to rewrite the entirety of Amnesia, I do not own any of the characters._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Queen's Blade

* * *

 _She thought the night was blue when she left the train station._

 _Look above. Look down. Look to your sides. What do you see? A sea of greying depression._

 _Where are you going? He wanted to ask her. Don't go there; you will die._

 _I don't mean to kill you. But sometimes, I really can't help it._

 _But in the end though, it's all my fault._

* * *

-Daybreak-

A gentle ray of sunlight hit her eyes. Pale-ish blue. Just like the underwater world where she used to visit as a child. It was eerie, but it sure was pretty.

How long has it been? She asked herself quietly. It almost seemed like a century since her parents were alive and well, and taken her to the zoo. Adolescence was hard; adulthood was even harder. Living by earning every bit of money she could find. Tired, ragged and slowly wasting away; she felt those were the most appropriate terms to describe her.

Where will you go? She asked herself silently. To the university she 'called' home? Back to that empty, half-burned remnant of history? Every bit of the past was destroyed in the fire. There is no going back.

But at the end of the day, where will you go? Who are you? Where do you belong? Are you truly your own person? What would you do if the whole world comes crashing down on you?

 _Yes, the whole world is crashing down onto me. I guess that is the price of my freedom. It is not the first time, neither is it the last time_.

Maybe, she thought as she lingered by her window, maybe, one day I will belong somewhere.

-unknown time, unknown place-

She wandered along the old alleys in some hidden part of the city. Of course, it was raining again. The smooth droplet of water running over the stones, washing them, fading them into eventual greyness. Every stone told a story; some are simply too smooth but beaten, while others are just...too new. As if they are a mere sacrifice for the city.

The world is quiet here, amidst the rain and fog shrouding the city.

 _I like it._

It is simple statement that is often forgotten in this city. Hardly no-one thinks it anymore. True, there is nothing to love about it; not amongst the greying clouds and constant rainfall. But there was simplicity in it.

'What do you love about it?'

'Everything that has nothing to do with this world.'

'Are you implying that perhaps we are not part of this world?'

'I never said we; I never intended to bother with you in the first place. And, I never implied that I am _not_ from this world.'

'But you clearly appreciate the more existentialistic aspect of the world than the actual.'

'So? Imaginary is always better than real. Most of the times.'

'But isn't reality far more tangible and more easily under your control than the imaginary?'

'The whole point of an imaginary world is so that it's solely under your control. However, in the real world, there are so many interconnected links that it becomes impossible to determine what caused what, precisely.'

'Yet to what extent are you in full control of your characters? Don't you find that you are obeying the wish or the likely action of a character? In that sense, I believe, you are not freer than the real world.'

'Have you forgotten the entire point of ambiguity? There are a set of consequences that could happen; no-one said your character has to follow a particular pathway.'

'But let's face the reality, how often does a book _not_ follow the mainstream cliches and tropes?'

'Sir,' she finally stood up and faced him, 'please let me remind you to not insult my novels. Whether you agree with my profession or not, I do not care. But I do mind you criticising my book without having read it first.'

The sun was just hiding behind the cloud when she left; leaving a bleak streak of light in the background.

She heard some quiet whispering after she walked away. Yet she never bothered to find out what it was.

-Dawn-

' _Do you remember me? I'm just a distant figure from your past; you associate no sounds or concrete memory with me. Yet, I hope, and I can only hope, that one day you will remember me.'_

She dreamt about it again last night. This time it wasn't about darkness and gradually losing herself in the maze, Rather, it was her crying out for someone. Only to be answered with a blade swiftly coming down on her, splattering blotches of red and whiteness everywhere. Across the canvas that she called dreams.

-Fin-

 _Don't hurt me. The Queen's Blade is far too sharp and cold for the night._

 _Don't hurt me. I don't want my blood to drench your eyes._

 _I want to remember you. The laughing, happy you from so long ago. yet I fear that this is too much to ask._

Is it too much to ask? _I hope you will come back to me, one day, someday._

* * *

Disclaimers: As much as I'd like to own Amnesia, I do not own it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: _Heaven_

* * *

I say to you, can you see it? A sky lit up by fireflies?

Can you see it? It was so bright against the dark drop of the sky.

* * *

 _Rage._

There was no better way to describe this feeling. If it wasn't rage, then she doesn't know what sort of flame burns through the plain and destroys everything in its path.

After all, who was he, to be so entitled to intrude upon her most solitary hours? To interrupt her and question her every move?

 _Just keep going. Don't bother looking back._

 _But how can I keep going if I don't know where I came from_?

This was a pointless, she reminded herself. You start with nothing. Then you slowly build everything up, only to have your world collapse on you; basically, you end with nothing. What a waste of time, space and energy.

Because remember, remember the 4th of November, how everything burned down?

You were not supposed to be alive.

But suppose she did look back. She would see an alleyway leading all the way to the ships by the docks. The place where she knew so well as a child. Day in, day out. Waiting for her parents to come back. Waiting for her old life to come back.

 _Was she a fool? To wait for someone who is never coming back?_

 _Don't look back, because there was nothing useful in the past for you._

Ultimately. This world was silent. Grief, as much as it was colourful, remained silent and grey on this matter.

 _Solitude_

Also known as the practise where one sits by oneself and ponders over small matters for hours with no-end. Probably better known as overthinking to the plainer folks, but an essential aspect to life all the same.

Where was I in my story-writing? Oh, Theo died, Prue was left alone in the long left in pursuit of a better life, Madeleine was captured and no-one gave a damn about it. The same old. Nothing changes. People come and go, leave a mark, and then proceed to break you in the cruelest manner possible.

But what is the point of all this? What is the point of writing sensationalised story if they never happen in real life? True, there is an element of control in this. But what else are there really?

To express the truth of real life? But there wasn't a truth to begin with. At the utmost, there is only a half-truth to cling onto, like a lost feather in the wind.

To discover an emotion long lost? But what kind of person would put themselves in such torture?

I can't deal with this. She thought.

No. I am strong enough to deal with this. There is always a truth to the story. Even my story.

 _Heavens_

There had to be a better way to solve this question. Afterall, for a question worth's only three marks, it does not deserve the five page of working out.

But why? Aren't you happy with the fact that you have got the answer? And mind, no-one else got the answer.

Kind of...not really. I just think that for a question like this, it probably wasn't intended for so much calculation. I mean, there must be a simpler algorithm. For the most part, I feel like I just took...some unnecessary steps.

I see your reasoning, but look at how you solved the question rather than the mark allocation.

(' _A girl of an inquisitive mind by nature and disposition, I see.'_ )

Three knocks. That was all it took for mother to get distracted.

Keep going, darling, I think you are on the right line of thinking.

There was some inaudible exchanges at the door. Not that she really cared; her parents have more than their fair shares of dealings with the merchants. This probably was one of those things. She thinks at least; but the extent of her knowledge is so limited in such dealings.

Footsteps creeped closer and closer. Unknown faces swirled in the background. It was almost as if a ghost was following her. It demanded nothing but silence, yet most markedly clicked on the pavement. Knowledge of this was not necessary. There was nothing she could have done, yet arguably, there was everything she could have done to stop it.

Her mother came back. Her face half happy, half greying.

So, did you solve it?

Mother, I haven't got enough time. I think I am almost close to solve it.

Perhaps you should leave it for now; I'll have a look at it. Why don't you see Shin?

But…

And we will take you to catch fireflies later.

Down by the meadows? Like we used to? Is father coming?

Of course silly, we will all go there, like the old times. Like when you were just a tiny baby.

The I guess. I promise not to bother you for the rest of the afternoon.

She was never truly unhappy. There was always some kind of surprise in the air. Something to be happy about.

 _Hellfire_

Once upon a time, my mother used to tell me, you are as beautiful as a princess from a fairytale.

' _No. They are only unrealistic lies we keep passing down as compliments. Even if they mean nothing.'_

When you grow up, you will be beautiful, strong, smart, independent and blessed with warmth.

All there is left is coldness, seeping through everything.

We will always be here by your side.

 _But you are not._

I saw it. I saw the first log being lit up by some stranger with green hair. It ignited a chain reaction that can never be stopped. It fell, breaking and crashing into other wood planks. Setting them on fire was something as easy as doing elementary maths.

Too late. He seemed to be mocking me. _You are all going to die now._

So was my life, it crashed down on me all too soon. Burning, raging through my time, leaving a trail of charred field.

* * *

At the same time though, they are not lighting up the sky; they set the sky on fire.

I don't know where I was when the sky came falling down.

But it did.

Falling, burning, spreading its rage through the place I knew so well.

* * *

Author's disclaimer: I do not own Amnesia in any shape or form. I enjoy tweaking with the characters and story plotline, but that's about it


End file.
